The candle sputtered as bits of badly-rendered fat crackled in the burning tallow. Exhausted from the day’s work, he sat back on his cot, watching the smoke rise like rain in reverse, to pool on the ceiling.

Then something interesting began to happen.

The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Discretion is advised. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com

As a child, I’d loved this forest; maybe because it was where I went to get away from the cottage, and the dark, brooding pressure of my Grandfather’s presence. But something had changed. The woods no longer seemed like a place of reprieve. I felt that I was being… not watched, per se, but noticed, and that it wasn’t a friendly kind of noticing.

The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Discretion is advised. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com